Christmas in London
by Nemaides
Summary: "Nathaniel and Kitty were standing together. It didn't faze me like the first time, them being together like that without at least one attempt at murder."
1. Chapter 1

It was Christmastime. Outside, tufts of snow were falling, their delicate white forms spinning gently through the air. The trees stood still and nobly, their branches beginning to be covered in a frosty powder.

Kitty's breath made a little fogged-up circle on the freezing glass as she stared out the window in dizzy pleasure. She balled up her sleeve over one hand and scrubbed it away. "Nathaniel! It's snowing," she said. "It's the first snow!"

"Snow?" Nathaniel's voice came faintly down the hall. Kitty heard footsteps, and then, louder now: "Snow?"

She turned. Nathaniel was standing in the doorway, a pair of reading glasses on his nose. Wilbur was beside him, but the orange cat trotted off and slid through his kitty door. Nathaniel folded the glasses up and tucked them into a pocket.

"Come and see," Kitty said giddily. "It's beautiful!"

Nathaniel hurried over to the window, and knelt on the window seat beside her. He touched the cold glass with a finger, and looked out at the dark night world.

A gust of wind blew the snowflakes, spinning and whirling, faster through the air, and the branches of the trees shook, scattering snow to the icy ground below. Above, the white stars glimmered brightly, and the moon cast its rays upon the world.

"Beautiful," Nathaniel agreed. He swiftly removed his finger from the glass and touched Kitty's neck. She yelped and jumped back, then grabbed a pillow from the seat and pounded him with it.

Nathaniel grabbed the pillow away and tossed it back at her, and she threw it back at him—a full-scale pillow fight ensued, a flurry of white pillows flying through the air like the snowflakes soaring outside through the night.

At last, they collapsed—the last pillow wilted from Kitty's hand, and they dropped together onto the window seat. In front of them, crackling and flaming and casting golden-orange rays, the fire roared in the chimney.

"I wish we had marshmallows," Kitty said wistfully. She kicked off her slippers and propped her feet up on a fallen pillow before the fire. "Toasted over the fire…yum."

"Knowing you, you'd catch it on fire. Next thing the rug would be in flames…and it'd virtually deteriorate from there," Nathaniel said wryly. Kitty punched him hard on the shoulder.

"As if! That'd be _you_," she laughed. "You even manage to burn toast! How do you do it? The whole thing is on a _timer." _

They sat together and watched the flames hiss and pop in a warm peacefulness. Behind their backs, out the window, a cold breeze blew and gusted, and chilly snow pounded the streets—but inside, everything was cozy.

"If Bartimaeus were here," Nathaniel said suddenly, "he wouldn't even need a burning marshmallow to set your house on fire."

"Too right!" Kitty agreed vehemently. They eyed each other. Then: "I miss him."

Nathaniel slid a hand down to clasp Kitty's smaller one in his.

Kitty sighed. "It's been so long since we last summoned him. I mean, I know he needs his rest, but…"

"…it's Christmas?" Nathaniel finished.

"Yes. It'd be an amazing Christmas if we could all spend it together."

"Was that supposed to be a hint?" Nathaniel turned and propped his head on the back of his hand, his elbow resting on the rim of the window. A slight smile was on his face.

"Did you find it to be?"

"Perhaps I did, Kitty." Nathaniel was grinning again. "So…Bartimaeus will be here for Christmas."

"And what an interesting Christmas it will be."

**Part One: The Summoning (And the Awful Advice)**

It took mere seconds. One second I was a strand of greenish glow, winding throughout the infinity of the Other Place, and in the next I was standing in a smudged pentacle, warm air creeping over the form of Ptolemy.

Nathaniel and Kitty were standing in front of me. It didn't faze me like the first time they'd summoned me, them being together like that, without at least one attempt at murder. Their hands were held together through twining fingers. I'd also noticed that, whenever Kitty was around, Nathaniel seemed a little lighter and easygoing. And I bet she'd never received one of his death-glares. At least, not since they'd started going out. ((Yes, Kitty and Nathaniel were together. Another double-whammy I hadn't quite seen coming. But I should have. The lonesome magician and the fiery commoner…it calls for a romance book all unto itself.))

"Well." I stepped out of the pentacle. "Howdy, The Boyfriend, nice to see you, The Girlfriend."

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. Kitty rushed to embrace me, and I choked on several flying strands of her hair.

It had been two years since the Glass Palace Incident, or at least I _thought _it was two years. It might've been three. What can I say? Time passes fast when you're floating around like Jell-O in the Other Place. Nouda was safely dead, and as you can see, Nathaniel was quite alive. Unfortunately. ((Yes, I know—I still haven't completely wiped away all traces of cynicism I have toward the boy, despite my many visits. It's just my personality.))

"So," I said, looking around. The summoning room was as clean and shining as ever. Drapes were pulled back from the windows to let frosty sunlight spill into the room, and it exposed the glittering snow on the ground outside. "Is this another wardrobe-moving thing?"

"Nope," Kitty replied, smiling and moving backward to give me some air. ((I gulped it in thankfully…but just for show. I don't need to breath. Or eat. Or drink. Or go to the—never mind.)) "Think again."

"Uh…Wilbur's stuck in the tree again? _Please_ don't let it be that. I swear I've still got gouges in my arm. That cat hates me."

As if one cue, the orange-furred cat padded into the room. Kitty ((I know, I know. I have to bite back my laughter, too)) scooped up the cat and ran her hands through its fur. "He doesn't hateyou, Bartimaeus."

"Yeah," I snorted, eyeing the cat out of the corner of my eye. It was doing the same for me. ((Only without the snort. That would be odd.)) "It's just mutual _dislike_."

At long last, Nathaniel entered the conversation. "We were thinking of having you over for the holidays."

I raised an eyebrow. "What holiday? I know dozens of them off the top of my head. And I don't fancy you to be the Fruitcake Day type." ((Fruitcake is disgusting. Rocks and fruit just don't go together.))

"It's Christmastime, Bartimaeus," Kitty said. She walked to the door, set the cat down, and gently prodded it out the door. It stubbornly stayed put. "You know…carols and Santa Claus. Candy canes. Christmas trees."

"Good. Fruitcake is nasty." I scratched my head. "But I suppose that I'll be loading in the tree. Lugging Santa Claus here clear out from the North Pole so Nathaniel can rest his cushy bottom and tell the man what he wants for Christmas…Presumably a letter opener or something boring like that…"

"We don't want you here so you can do work for us, Bartimaeus," Kitty laughed. She wound her arms around Nathaniel's neck and gave him a kiss. ((I notably grimaced. Human affection is just so…affectionate. And besides, Kitty looked like she was kissing a smiling wax statue. A very ugly looking statue, by the way.)) "It's so you can spend time with us. As friends."

Friends? I couldn't help raising an eyebrow. Kitty was the one who rolled her eyes this time, and she swatted me on the arm.

"Get used to it, you idiotic djinni. We're friends." Then she turned and exited the room, tossing a look at Nathaniel as she went. "Why don't you two boys talk?"

The infernal cat followed her out, hissing at me as it left. I resisted the temptation to toss a Detonation at it.

I turned back to Nathaniel. My eyebrow was still raised.

He shrugged. "Sometimes I don't get her either." And then he followed her out as well. "Come on, Bartimaeus. I thought you were social."

So I followed them out of the room.

0000000000000000000000000000

It was here that my advice was called for.

Kitty was in the kitchen, banging away and making tea. I could hear the cups chinking and colliding with each other, and then the gurgle of hot water as it rushed out of the kettle. The spitting of several creative curses when she stubbed her toe was an added background.

I strolled out of the summoning room—and was jerked to the side by Nathaniel. "Ow—wha…what do you think you're doing?"

He continued dragging me down the hall. "Shut up and come with me."

I'm not the best at keeping quiet. The complaints kept up.

At last he opened a door, pushed me inside, and closed it softly behind him. "As much as I wish I didn't need to say this…I need your help on something."

I clapped my hands and grinned at him. "_Well, _I'm pleased to say that I know all! Ask away. It'd better not be anything about building walls, though. Or dealing with Wilbur."

"Bartimaeus." Nathaniel darted a look at the closed door. "It's about Kitty."

"Ah. It's of the lovey-dovey sort. I'm extremely experienced in things like this. ((This was vastly untrue)) Sure thing, old boy." I adopted a languishing pose, cupping the side of my head in the palm of my hand and sprawling out on his bed ((as the room he had shoved me in was his bedroom)) and fixing him with Ptolemy's dark-eyed, attentive stare. "So?"

"I need to get her something for Christmas." He looked forlorn now, and I elongated Ptolemy's arm so as to pat him roughly on the back. ((Roughly, or in other words, a pat so hard he flew forward and bonked into the bed.))

Nathaniel staggered back upward and gave me one of his trademark glares that always seem to be directed at me. "Stop fooling around."

"Fooling around? Me?" The arm snapped back to regular size, and I regarded him with a petulant look.

"Yes, you," Nathaniel sighed. He ran a hand through his hair and then took a step forward. "Okay. So what should I get her?"

"Get who?"

"Kitty! For Christmas!"

"Ah, yes. Erm…" I searched my mind. "Kitty likes knives…as I've found out in the past. You could get her a knife."

"A knife."

"They're very good for…cutting stuff. Like vegetables? Djinn, too. But let's not head in that direction."

"You can't be serious."

"Serious as I can be," I said, cocking my head to the side. "From your expression, you don't think this is a good idea. I know. I didn't think it was either."

"Why did I even bother to ask you?" Nathaniel muttered.

I shrugged. "She's your girlfriend, not mine. Deal with it."

Then we both left the room, and walked to the kitchen, where Kitty had steaming cups of tea on the table. And that was that.

**Part Two: Cooking Catastrophe (HINT) **

"Bart!"

I stepped a pace away from the goldfish I was stalking, swimming frantically around in its tiny spherical bowl. The cat cocked its head. "What?"

Kitty stuck her head into the room this time. "I'm going out to get the cake. Can you start making dinner? Family is coming over tonight." She made a face as she said this. ((Hopefully because she disliked her family—not because she dreaded my cooking. Which, by the way, was excellent. I whipped up the poisoned wine that was served to Genghis Khan…unless it was the _wine_ that—never mind.))

"Christmas Eve dinner, huh?" The cat stretched. "Not a problem." I leaped off the side table and onto the floor, passing Wilbur by with a show of teeth and a glinting hiss. Wilbur responded by puffing out his fur and letting out a stream of gas. I barely blinked. This cat was hopeless. "What d'you need?"

"There's a list on the kitchen counter. Don't worry, I've already stocked up with all the ingredients…I might take a little while, since I've got to run some errands, too. Nathaniel's going to be home at five." Kitty's hair whipped around as she headed back down the hall. "See you later. Thanks…"

A pause. The cat turned. Kitty's head poked in again. "Oh, and Bartimaeus."

I looked at her innocently.

"Stop torturing the poor fish."

I rolled my eyes. She left, taking Wilbur with her. ((Pity. I'd been half hoping to get a quick snack while I was working.))

Speaking of work…

I popped into the kitchen, hands on hips, and surveyed the room. The list was on the counter, face-up and showing Kitty's hurried scrawl. I ambled over and picked it up.

Mashed potatoes, Gravy, Salad (any kind), and Prime rib, was the list. Along side each was, of course, the recipe. I tossed it out. Who needed things like that? ((I can feel you anticipating disaster. Don't. I'm a perfectly capable djinni who-)) I lunged forward and snatched up a basket filled with potatoes and apples, which my elbow had knocked off the counter, seconds before it hit the floor. ((What was I saying again? Ah. Yes. I'm very capable. Of doing certain things. Which cooking might not—whatever)).


	2. Chapter 2

The warm, sugary smell of the bakery was more than she could bear. If this infernally _long_ line kept up, Kitty had a feeling that when she had the cake ordered and in her hands it would be gone by the time she was home. It seemed that all of London was at Whitt's Bakery for a Christmas Eve cake. For both Bartimaeus' and Nathaniel's sake, the line better move up quick.

Speaking of Bartimaeus…

Kitty checked her watch anxiously. Nathaniel would be home in half an hour, so he could keep an eye on the djinni. She should have never trusted Bartimaeus with the cooking—not unless she planned on taking her parents straight to the hospital after dinner because their throats were clogged with gluey mashed-potatoes or something like that.

"And what would you like, miss?"

"I…sorry, what?" Kitty snapped back into focus. In front of her, leaning slightly over the counter, was one of the bakers, looking harassed. She could feel impatient people shifting behind her.

"What would you like?" the baker repeated impatiently, but not unkindly.

"The raspberry angel cake."

"Slices or the whole?"

"Whole, please."

A few minutes later, Kitty was moving through the crowded bakery. She slid through the iced door out into the gusting wind, leaving the sugary smells and light scents of bread behind, with a pink box in her hands.

A little ways down the sidewalk was her rickety car. Kitty lowered her head against the wind, boots crunching on the light snow kissing the sidewalk. A few people whisked by, fleeing the cold, their heads bent just as much as she.

The wind died down a bit, and Kitty raised her head. The sun cast a sparkling image on the ice, and the trees were dotted with flakes of white. The sun sparkled amongst the gray-blue sky, and a few tufts of snow drifted aimlessly, dancing in the wind. It definitely felt like a Christmas, all right.

Suddenly—

"Whoa!" Kitty stumbled forward, her toe catching on a raised portion of the sidewalk. As she tumbled to the ground, the box flying out of her hands, which were thrust outward to catch her fall, she jostled a black haired woman in a rich leather coat.

Her hands struck the ground and she slid a bit, her cheek knocking against the surface hard enough to make her brains seemed scrambled for a moment. Then Kitty sat up, examining her palms, which were slightly scratched and pink.

"Watch where you're going."

Kitty, who had reached out to grab the cake box, snatched it off of the ground and narrowed her eyes at the figure. The woman was now turning away dismissively.

She knew that voice.

"What're you doing on the street_, _Farrar?" she called scathingly, on a whim. "Where's the limo?_" _

"Kitty Jones." The woman turned back around, focusing her frosty-green eyes on Kitty. Kitty looked back, standing up and never turning her eyes away.

It was Farrar all right. Same voice, same shiny hair, same damsel-looking eyes that could turn ice-hard in an instant.

"Or should I say," Farrar mused, tapping a gloved finger against her chin, "Kitty Mandrake?"

God, she hated the sound of that name. As much as she loved Nathaniel, "Kitty Mandrake" just sounded…stupid. Too bad Nathaniel couldn't take on her own last name—it was against the magician's so-called rules.

Anyway, it just made Kitty all the more irritated.

"Kitty Jones for now," she replied, dusting off her knees and sending scraps of ice flying onto the ground. "Why? You jealous?" she added sarcastically. "Not enough powerful boy-ministers to go around?"

Farrar sniffed, jerked around, and began striding off once more. Kitty stared at her turned back. Thoughts circled around in her head.

"Spending Christmas Eve alone, Farrar?" she called.

Farrar kept on walking. She didn't answer, just kept on striding on, step-after-step. Her head was lifted as always, even when receiving the biting impact of the thrusting winds. Farrar looked like an elegant, sharp-beaked bird of prey, walking down the sidewalk alone, like a forlorn hawk soaring throughout the empty sky.

Despite her dislike for the snobby woman, Kitty felt a surge of sympathy for Farrar. She had Bartimaeus, Nathaniel, and her own family. Farrar, Jane Farrar, had no one. Not even on Christmas Eve.

Kitty raised her head once more and gazed at the sky, which was now letting snowflakes drift calmly down. She reached out a bare hand, still tinged pink with both cold and hurt, and a little wisp of white fluttered onto her hand. It was there for an instant, and then melted. Finally:

"Jane."

Jane Farrar kept on walking—she was now nearing the bakery, her shoulders hunched.

"Jane." Kitty trotted down the sidewalk, down towards Jane Farrar, the cake box tucked under her arm. She held out her other empty arm, and grabbed Farrar gently by the shoulder. Farrar jerked out of her reach and took a step back, green eyes glowering.

"What do you _want_?" Farrar snapped. Her cheeks were flushed red, from either anger or the wind or something else. "Come to taunt me? Then I'll tell you, yes! Yes, I'm spending Christmas alone! I'm perfectly fine with that, Kitty Jones. Don't you assume _anything_, because you know _nothing _about me," she finished with icy gusto.

"I'm not going to taunt you," Kitty replied quietly. She looked down at the melted speck on her palm, and traced it away gently with another finger. "And you're right—I don't know much anything about you."

Farrar looked at the sidewalk, her hands clenched tight around her handbag. Her knuckles were as white as the snow falling silently around them.

"But I do know that people shouldn't be alone on Christmas." Kitty took a step forward. Farrar lifted her head, and Kitty could see something crumbling, breaking in her eyes. "And I just wanted to say…would you like to have dinner at my house tonight, at six? A Christmas Eve dinner."

Farrar was silent for a moment longer. Kitty was the one to look at the gray sidewalk this time, in disbelief with what she had just done—invited the cold Jane Farrar over for Christmas Eve.

At last, Farrar spoke. "I'll come." Then she turned and swept away, without saying a good-bye.

Kitty tucked the box more securely under her arm. Then she, too, turned, and walked in the opposite direction.

And snow kept on falling, dancing, soaring, in their short, beautiful flight from the heavens.


	3. Chapter 3

The sleek car pulled up to the curb. A tall, almost lanky-like, young man with stepped out. He gestured at the car, and the driver in the front seat stomped on the gas. It went darting off back down the street.

Nathaniel began walking up toward the tiny house's stoop. He glanced down at the tiny present in his hand, and shifted it uncomfortably to the other. Then, as the tip of his toe knocked against the porch step, he quickly dropped it into his pocket. Hopefully Kitty would like it.

Kitty Jones.

Nathaniel strode up the porch steps, a faint, amused smile on his lips. Who would have known that they'd be…together? _He_ certainly hadn't—not until he'd woken up in the hospital, three days after the Glass Palace Incident, covered in scrapes and toting a broken arm.

_The air seemed full of beeping. There was a stiff blanket over him, draped like coat over the dead. Nathaniel wearily looked around—his whole body hurt, like he'd been trampled by a rhino. _

_ He was alive. He was aching, he was tired, he was sore—but he was alive. And that both befuddled and rejoiced him. _

He reached out with a hand and unlocked the door. It was only last year that Kitty hadtrusted him with a key to her house, and doing so with casual trust and a beaming smile.

Nathaniel would do anything for that smile.

He pushed open the door. "Kitty?"

The honk of a horn came from behind him; Nathaniel turned around, one hand still on the doorknob. He heard rustling in the kitchen, footsteps, and then an Egyptian boy in a smudged loincloth was beside him, dark eyes amused.

"Looks like your true love has arrived," Bartimaeus yawned. He leaned back and stretched—horrific cracking sounds ensued, and Nathaniel winced.

"Better go hide in the kitchen to escape the smoochie-smoochies," the djinni added with a teasing bite. He brushed past Nathaniel and padded back down to the kitchen.

Kitty had parked her rickety car in the driveway, and was now hopping out with plastic bags dangling on her arms like they were clinging for life. Wilbur hopped out of the car and darted into a nearby bush, a pastry in his mouth.

"Hey!" she called with a smile. "You're home early."

"I got done with my stuff fast," Nathaniel replied with a shrug. He smiled back, reached for a plastic bag. They began walking back toward the house, falling snowflakes catching in their hair.

_Nathaniel sat up—as he did, he felt dizzy, and slouched back a bit. Things spun, and then came clearer like a camera being focused. He blinked, looked around—and saw Kitty Jones, sitting in a chair, her legs crossed, eyeing him intently. Brown eyes met brown eyes. _

_ "You're awake," she said softly. _

_ "Does that surprise you?" he replied, his voice raspy. He reached one hand for a glass of water that was sitting on a bedside table. Kitty quickly grabbed it and handed it to him. _

_ "Well…I guess. I thought..."_

_ "That I was going to die?"_

_ "No. Yes. Er…" She uncrossed her legs and crossed them again, looking uncomfortable. Her eyes flicked up and met his again. "I..." _

_ Nathaniel felt something inside him flutter. _

"Have you checked on Bartimaeus?" Kitty hefted one bag higher up her arm.

"No. I mean, he came to the door just now, but I got home only a few minutes ago. Why?"

"I…told him to make dinner."

Nathaniel thought back to the black marks on the djinni's loincloth—almost like scorch marks—and winced again. "Maybe we can survive on cake tonight."

"If we have too."

They reached the porch—suddenly Kitty let out a little cough and grabbed Nathaniel by the arm. "There's another thing I need to tell you."

"Good or bad?"

"It depends. You might not like it. So, sort of...bad?"

Nathaniel steeled himself. "Another rabid pigeon is stuck in your bedroom? If it is,_ Bartimaeus_ is handling it this time."

Kitty sighed. "I wish. It's Farrar. I invited her over for dinner."

Nathaniel stopped walking. "Farrar. Dinner. _Here?"_

Kitty threw her arms in the air—the bags dangling from them crinkled and banged against her elbows, swinging like fall leaves. "She was lonely! And yes, it was a crazy idea, but I did it." She marched into the house.

Nathaniel followed her in. "Kitty."

She faced him, eyes glittering. He embraced her with his arms, and she leaned against him, their bags fluttering and bouncing off of each other. "It was wonderful of you," he whispered. Kitty looked up, Nathaniel bent down—and they kissed.

_"Everyone out there loves you, did you know that?"_

_ It was two days after Nathaniel had woken up, five days after he had killed Nouda. Kitty was standing by the window, staring out. Beside her, wilting flowers were tucked into a vase._

_ "_Loves _me?" Nathaniel said, slightly alarmed. "I wouldn't exactly say _love…"

_ Kitty rolled her eyes—Nathaniel watched her hair glimmer in the afternoon sunlight, shining in through the window. _

_ "Fine," she said. "Adoration, then. You're the big hero." She softened. "And thanks. You did save London, after all."_

_ Nathaniel shrugged, feeling embarrassed. "Bartimaeus helped."_

_ "But you saved him, too, in the end." Kitty's voice was strange now—soft and a bit watery sounding, as if she were speaking underwater. "You cared."_

_ "He might've messed things up," Nathaniel offered uneasily. He wasn't quite used to Kitty praising him. It was an odd feeling. "And…I couldn't just let him, risk him, stay trapped in me forever. It would've killed him. Metaphorically speaking, of course." He looked at the blanket—she out the window. _

_ Kitty shifted—then she took the flowers out of the vase and left the room. "I'll be back tomorrow. You need new flowers." _

_ And Nathaniel watched her go. _

"I guess I came out of the kitchen too early," a voice drawled behind them. Nathaniel slowly lifted his head; Kitty stepped away. They both turned to face Bartimaeus, who was leaning against the wall, eyes glittering with interest.

"You did," Kitty agreed. She punched the djinni lightly on the shoulder and stepped past him. "It was quite a nice moment until you came along."

"Ouch."

"Is everything all right…with the dinner?" Nathaniel asked. Bartimaeus, who was in Ptolemy's form, had to raise his head and lean back slightly to hold his eye contact.

"Fine-de-doo," the djinni said. He looked down at the scorch marks and quickly brushed them away. When he looked up and saw Kitty and Nathaniel looking at him anxiously, he scowled and put his hands on his hips. "_What?"_

"Nothing, nothing," Kitty replied hurriedly. She began walking towards the kitchen.

"There's a little trust issue going around here," Bartimaeus sniped. He hopped after Kitty.

Kitty reached the doorway, looked in—and gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth. Nathaniel hurried to her side. "Is it bad?"

Then he, too, saw and his eyes widened in shock.

"Ouch _again_," Bartimaeus muttered. He strolled past them into the kitchen, plopped into a chair, and folded his arms.

On counter was a bowl of mashed potatoes, white and creamy-looking, with almond flakes carefully sprinkled over it. Beside it was a cup of gravy, dark and rich, and next to that was the salad. The salad was neatly tossed, the pomegranates scattered amongst glistening leaves of lettuce, perfectly chopped cucumbers, and slices of olive. A swirl of dressing neatly finished the top. And next to that was the prime rib—juicy-looking and tender, its sides perfectly cooked, with a sprinkle of black pepper dotting the surface.

Bartimaeus grinned at them smugly. "And you thought I couldn't cook."


	4. Chapter 4

**Bartimaeus **

And so, after an hour of slaving ((although Kitty would be both embarrassed and disapproving of this term)) I had made Kitty's jaw drop and Nathaniel's eyes go buggy. The pan burns on my fingers and the horrific ash marks on my loincloth were almost worth it. Almost.

I dawdled by the dining table, straightening a spoon here, folding a napkin more crisply there. The sky outside was turning into a burning purple, the color of a dark sunset.

Kitty walked into the room. She was wearing fancier clothes than she'd had on earlier, and her hair was loose across her shoulders. She looked at me—and stopped dead. "Bart."

"Hmm?"

She pointed at my loincloth. "You can't wear a singed loincloth for a Christmas Eve dinner."

I made a face. "Well, my profuse apologies to you." The loincloth stayed untouched, shining in its blackened, grimy glory. I patted it proudly.

Kitty looked at me. She put a hand on her hip. I rolled my eyes.

"_Fine._ I'll put on something nicer. But not a suit, I'm warning you. I'm no Nathaniel."

Kitty walked over to the table and propped up a big spoon, sliding in the bowl of mashed potatoes. "Thanks. It'd make things even more awkward if my parents were disapproval hussies all dinner."

"Especially with the delightful Jane Farrar," I replied wryly. The spoon in the mashed potatoes slid sideways again, and then slowly sank into the aromatic goop, disappearing from sight underneath the golden surface.

Kitty absently placed the spoon straight, avoiding my eyes. "Nathaniel told you?"

"Of course he did. And it's fine with me, there's no need to confirm. As long as I don't have to sit with her." I strolled past. "You can have that pleasure_." _

Kitty winced. I chuckled. Then I rounded the corner and left the room.

**Kitty **

Nathaniel was getting drinks out of the fridge, hauling them onto the kitchen counter. "Looks like you've done a lot of shopping," he commented dryly, lugging out another blueberry cider.

Kitty shrugged. "Everyone likes blueberry cider."

Nathaniel placed the cider on the counter alongside the others, leaned forward. "When is everyone coming, again?"

"Six." Kitty glanced at the clock. It was five-fifty. Around ten more minutes and everyone would be here: Mom, Dad, and Farrar. As much as Christmas Eve was warm and cozy, those ten minutes wouldn't last long enough. God knows what would happen once those three people arrived. Perhaps a cha-cha band would drop in as well, and they'd play bouncy music while a golem smashed the house and Bartimaeus destroyed suits.

Nathaniel was looking at the clock as well. Then he directed his chocolate-brown gaze back on Kitty. "Where's Bartimaeus?"

"I told him to go change out of his loincloth," Kitty muttered, moving along the counter to reach for a glass. "Don't worry. He's not attacking one of your suits in the process…and hopefully Wilbur isn't being munched on."

"It's a love-hate relationship," Nathaniel said. "Djinni versus cat. Bartimaeus has found his true love. Now they shalt get married."

Kitty spat out her sip of cider, sending it splatting onto the counter, and choked out the rest, laughing at something so random it was crazy. "That wasn't funny," she gasped, gripping her glass, "but…I can't…stop laughing."

"Hysterics on the approaching doom parade," Nathaniel predicted solemnly. Then he broke into a wide smile, not the slight one he gave to others, but the real sha-bang. He reached out and drew her close; Kitty tilted her head back, closed her eyes…

And the doorbell rang, a loud whiny sound that Kitty disliked, even more so in this moment. She let out a little sigh, broke away. "Company's here."

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows. "Then we'd better go let them in."

Kitty's mother and father were at the door, their hair slightly graying, and their faces just beginning to show signs of age. Kitty's mom waved, smiling. "Kitty! And…hello, sir," she said deferentially to Nathaniel, lowering her eyes a bit. Kitty's father did the same.

Kitty and Nathaniel looked at each other awkwardly.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, there came a loud sound behind them. Kitty moved aside and looked to the hall.

Bartimaeus was striding down the hall in his splendor, with jeans and a soft red sweater, which were rather normal, but also a whirling tangerine orange cape that clashed horribly. He beamed, winked at Kitty, who smiled back weakly.

"Kitty's father," Bartimaeus said, pointing at the gray-haired man—the man blinked, opened his mouth—and Bartimaeus directed his point toward the woman. "Kitty's mother."

"Well, that's obvious." Nathaniel said irritably, and Bartimaeus cocked his head to look at him, as if saying, 'is_ that so?' _

"Mom, Dad." Kitty broke in and leaned forward, hugging them both to her, if a bit stiffly. Her parents wrapped their arms around her. Kitty felt surrounded by a circle of warmth radiating love. For a moment she closed her eyes. "I've missed you."

"Been a long while since we saw you last," her mother chirped, and she was smiling and leaning back. Kitty's father ran a hand through his hair. "Got a few things to be sorry about. Not much, of course," he added hurriedly, "but…some things."

"Not things to discuss on the doorstep," Nathaniel hinted, looking pointedly out at the snowy world outside. Kitty's parents avoided his eyes and nodded together, their heads bobbing, and then stepped into the warm house.

Just as they did so, Bartimaeus leaned past them and pointed out the door. "Guess who's here?" he asked, with a devilish grin on his face.

"Who?" Kitty's father said gruffly.

They all faced the doorway, and Kitty knew who it was.

The black limo paused at the curb; a white-gloved hand reached out, grabbed the hand of the driver, and then a beautiful woman with sleek black hair stepped elegantly out. She snatched her purse off of the back seat, ignored the bewitched driver, and then began striding up toward the tiny house, her startling green eyes fixed on them without the slightest hint of uncertainty.

Kitty said, "Jane Farrar."

Bartimaeus smiled his wicked grin again. "And so let the party begin, eh?"


	5. Chapter 5

Dinner, at first, was an awkward affair.

Farrar was sitting at one side of the table, her legs crossed and pink lips pursed. Beside her was Kitty, who was slowly trying to begin a conversation. After Kitty came her parents, awestruck by the magician near them.

Nathaniel and Bartimaeus were now the only ones left standing. They looked at the seats remaining. They glanced at each other. Then they acted.

They both scrambled for the chair beside Kitty's parents—Nathaniel stomped hard on the djinni's foot, and then hurriedly threw himself down into the chair. Bartimaeus let out a hiss of pain and threw a baleful glare at him, and then trudged slowly toward the empty seat beside Farrar.

Farrar didn't show any signs that she had noticed the commotion—she merely lifted her nose, eyeing the djinni up and down. "That cape is hideous," she snapped at last.

Bartimaeus smiled slimly. "If you're not a fan of tangerines."

An awkward silence descended upon the table. Farrar picked at her nails, and Bartimaeus sullenly flicked at a pea. Kitty's parents glanced back and forth between everyone.

Kitty made a little motion, caught Nathaniel's eye.

_Help, _she mouthed, and gestured at the stony table.

Nathaniel hesitated, Kitty threw him a pleading look, and then he stood up.

"I'd like to thank you all for coming here, today," he began. "It means a lot to Kitty and I."

Bartimaeus rolled his eyes, flicked another pea. Nathaniel looked past him. "Your attendance to this dinner has made it what it is—special," he continued. "And…now…"

"…Let's eat?" Kitty suggested helpfully. Nathaniel nodded gratefully, feeling his ears flushing.

"Amen," Bartimaeus said. Under everyone's gaze, he reached for the mashed potatoes, tossed a huge glob onto his plate. Nathaniel wondered if he would even eat it—human food tended to have bad side effects on spirits. But he'd done it.

And so everyone else followed.

Over plates filled with food, chatter began. Kitty's mother began talking rapidly, excitedly, about some friend's new baby. Kitty began suggesting names, with Bartimaeus throwing in random things like 'Yoipburgerhop' and 'Kewykiwiface.' Even Farrar, after contemptuously picking at her mashed potatoes, joined in, with more ordinary names that the djinni.

Nathaniel couldn't keep the irresistible grin off his face. Whenever it had faded away, some quirky comment would send it bouncing back on. Usually it was the names that Bartimaeus proposed, insisting that they were 'perfectly normal.'

"Rosabel," Kitty's father mused, in response to one of Farrar's suggestions. Both he and his wife seemed accustomed to Farrar's presence now, sliding slowly into a more casual state. "Good idea."

"What about 'Jenny'?" Kitty said between bites of prime rib. "I've always liked that name. Wished you named me that instead of 'Katherine.'"

"Katherine's a beautiful name, dear," her mother insisted. "Perhaps you'd be used to it if you didn't insist everybody call you 'Kitty' all the time."

"I don't _insist," _Kitty protested. "I just…ask!"

"I still think 'Kewykiwiface' is perfect," Bartimaeus grumbled, moving mashed potatoes around his plate with a fork. "Tropical-sounding. Fruity."

More laughter.

"You're never naming any of _my _kids, Bart," Kitty laughed. "God, who knows how that'd turn out."

Nathaniel blinked at her statement, felt something rush through him, and reached down to finger her present, tucked away in his pocket. He felt a gaze on him—looked up to see Bartimaeus, a glob of mashed potatoes on his fork, eyebrows raised.

The djinni motioned with the fork toward Nathaniel's lowered arm, wiggled his eyebrows. Nathaniel scowled. Bartimaeus grinned.

_Is it a knife? _The djinni mouthed. He leaned forward, whispered, "You know I was just kidding right? You didn't take me seriously? Because…"

Nathaniel fought the urge to throw his arms in the air. He shook his head violently. _"_Of course it's not a knife, you idiot," he hissed.

Bartimaeus sat back down. "Then what is it?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

After another hour, filled with merry talk and lots of eating, Kitty's parents were at the door, their scarves wrapped around their necks, coats on, and hugging Kitty tightly.

"We love you, dear," Kitty's mother was saying, her face pressed into Kitty's hair. "No matter…what we said before, what we did…"

Kitty's father let out a little cough. "We had a bit…of misunderstandings, before," he muttered, scratching his hair. "I…we're…"

"…Sorry," Kitty's mother finished softly.

"Dad. Mom. It's…I mean, it…it wasn't okay," Kitty said choppily, looking flustered. "What you did, turning me over to—" She caught Nathaniel's eye, and he looked sheepishly back at her. She blushed slightly, and then moved her head back to look at her parents. "—To the government. That wasn't…" She let out a breath. "I still love you both."

Kitty's mother burst into tears, and hugged her daughter tighter. Kitty hugged her mom back, took a step back, and then her mother and father were out the door, calling "Merry Christmas!" in rather choked-up voices.

Kitty turned to Nathaniel, her eyes glimmering, and he held her in a warm hug of his own. Farrar watched from nearby, her face expressionless but green eyes swirling.

"That was very emotional," Bartimaeus commented. He was brushing himself off. "I swear it almost flooded in here."

Kitty turned back around, brushing at her eyes. Nathaniel kept an arm around her shoulders. "Be quiet, why can't you?" he asked irritably. "She's upset."

"I'm fine," Kitty cut in. She lowered her hands, smiling at them slightly. "I really needed that, in a way you wouldn't have thought."

"Well, I'd best be off, too."

The three of them faced Farrar—she brushed past them, glossy hair shining, to the door. Nathaniel was wordless. He gripped Kitty to him tighter, and Bartimaeus faced the doorway to watch her go.

Suddenly, Farrar stopped in the doorway. Her pink lips opened. "That paper's due on Monday, John," she snapped, out of the blue. "Your report better come in." She rotated slowly, to look at each of them. Then she briskly stepped outside. "Good night."

And she was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Nathaniel shut the door after Farrar. "Well, I guess that was that."

"What was what?" Bartimaeus asked, lounging against the wall.

Nathaniel shook a hand at the closed door. "You know…Farrar just leaving like that."

"What did you expect?" the djinni replied mockingly. "A tearful exchange of words? A sobbing confession? Not unless you have something she wants. And as you're getting…uh…erm…as you're _going out _with Kitty, she can't exactly have _you." _

A brief image of Farrar decked up in a poufy wedding dress with her red lips puckered and leaning toward him for a kiss flashed through Nathaniel's mind. He shuddered and forced it away. "Which would never happen in a million years," he muttered. Beside him, Kitty let out a small laugh.

"I guess we just thought she'd have a little more to say," Kitty admitted. Bartimaeus raised his eyebrows.

"Why didn't you just say so?" the djinni jerked a thumb at the dining table. "There's a teeny note tucked under her cup."

Kitty and Nathaniel exchanged a look—then they both hurried to the table. Bartimaeus strolled lazily on behind.

Sure enough, underneath the glass cup was a slightly soaked piece of paper. Nathaniel tugged it out and unfolded it.

**Nathaniel and Kitty, **

**Thank you. I must admit that having dinner here was far better than eating it alone, even if the mashed potatoes was a bit salty and the prime rib was overcooked. I wish you all well. Merry Christmas. **

** -Jane Farrar**

"I guess saying it aloud wasn't Jane's way," Kitty said. She folded the note and slipped it into her pocket. "Writing it was kind."

Behind them came a loud snort. They turned to catch Bartimaeus in the act of rolling his eyes, arms crossed.

"It was very touching and all," Bartimaeus grumbled. "_Except _for that part…the second sentence, you can see…she totally insulted my cooking! The prime rib was perfect! Exquisite! Let's see _her_ cook, hmmm? I bet she looks worse than Faquarl when she dons a chef's hat! And have you _seen_ Faquarl in a chef's hat? His tentacles get all squishy at the top and push at the fabric."

"Your cooking was delicious," Kitty assured, looking a bit green.

00000000000000000000000000000000

Christmas night was the next day. They sat by the fireplace with cups of cocoa, sipping it slowly. Nathaniel stared into the flames, and around his neck was the knitted scarf Kitty had given him. Bartimaeus was wearing a knitted hat. Kitty hadn't said a word when Nathaniel had not given her a present that morning. For that he was relieved.

"_See? I brought you new flowers." _

_Nathaniel set aside the book he was reading and looked up at Kitty Jones. She was standing in the doorway, clutching a small bouquet of day lilies._

"_Thank you very much." He winced at the formality in his voice. Kitty didn't appear to notice, just shrugged and smiled slightly. _

_She crossed the room and dropped the flowers into the vase. _

"_Can you bring the flowers over here?" he asked, lifting a hand free of the blankets to point at the vase. Kitty picked it up and brought it to his bedside table. _

"_They smell good, don't they?" Kitty asked. He could hear a grin in her voice. _

"_Yes." He glanced at her—and his breath caught in his throat. _

_She was wearing a light yellow blouse. Day lily-yellow. Her hair was loose, brushing her shoulders, flowing and tickling her cheeks. Her mouth was turned up slightly as she smiled at him. Nathaniel felt something burn inside him, a fierceness. He wanted to touch her hair. He wanted to kiss her. _

_He loved her._

Kitty sat up suddenly beside him. Nathaniel started, his hand jerking, falling back into the present. A dollop of hot chocolate sloshed onto the couch, and he dabbed at it with a finger.

"Marshmallows!" Kitty cried, and rushed out of the room.

"_Marshmallows?" _Bartimaeus sniped, looking at Nathaniel. "Is that some sort of fashionable swear word nowadays? And I swear—pardon the pun—that Londoners are getting weirder by the era."

"I don't think that was a pun," Nathaniel said doubtfully.

"And it wasn't a swear word," Kitty said, popping back. She was holding a bag of marshmallows in one hand, and three shish-kebab sticks in the other. She tossed a stick to Bartimaeus and one to Nathaniel, and slid a pasty white marshmallow onto her stick.

"Roasting marshmallows," Nathaniel mused as he stuck one of the sugary treats onto his stick. "Who thought of it?"

"I think it's an American custom," Bartimaeus said, squishing his marshmallow. "Kitty, you know I can't eat these disgusting things."

"I thought you might want to burn them," Kitty retorted. Bartimaeus blinked and looked at his marshmallow as if for the first time. Nathaniel groaned.

Bartimaeus merrily burned marshmallow after marshmallow. Fortunately, the house _didn't _burn down, although there were a few close calls involving a waving shish-kebab stick and a flaming marshmallow.

The time grew later. Bartimaeus yawned. "Well, I guess I'd better turn in for the night," he hinted. "Christmas was great and all, but…"

"Say no more, Bart," Kitty replied with a grin. She wrapped him in a big hug until Bartimaeus squirmed his way back out.

Nathaniel was there to awkwardly shake his hand. "Well…bye, I guess."

"I'll be seeing you both again." It was a statement, not a question from the djinni.

"Of course!" Kitty held Nathaniel's hand and took a step back. "Merry Christmas, Bart."

Bartimaeus grinned back at them cheerily. "Merry Christmas. Oh, and Kitty…Guess what Nathaniel is going—" Nathaniel quickly spoke the dismissal words. The air shimmered briefly, and then the djinni was gone.

Kitty whirled to Nathaniel. "Nathaniel is going to _what_?"

Nathaniel took a deep breath, grabbed Kitty's hand, and led her over to the fireplace so they were standing beside the crackling fire.

Kitty looked at him questioningly. "So…?" She grinned at him devilishly. "Is this going to be my Christmas present? What'd you get me?"

"Kitty Jones," he began, holding her hands in his.

"_Kitty Jones," Nathaniel said slowly. He sat up and plucked a flower from the vase. Kitty stared at him, something unreadable in her eyes, as he slid the flower into her hair. _

_Then her face was glowing bright, and her eyes were glimmering. She stretched out a hand and took his in hers. _

"_Kitty…"_

"You are the love of my life," he confessed. "Please, say yes." Kitty's eyes were melting into his, whirling dark pools. She looked delighted, but bewildered.

"Nathaniel, what…?"

He reached into his pocket and removed the box. The fire crackled and cast warmth onto the both of them, and Kitty let out a gasp. "Is this…?"

Nathaniel got to one knee. He snapped open the lid, and the item inside glittered. "Kitty Jones, will you marry me?"

Kitty's face was flushed. Her mouth worked to speak. Then her head snapped up, she threw her arms around Nathaniel, and laughed, "Yes!" She drew back, grinning widely, her whole face shining. "Yes," she repeated. "Nathaniel," she said. "I'll marry you."

Nathaniel got to his feet. Smiling softly, he plucked the glimmering ring out of the box and slid it into Kitty's finger. "I love you, Kitty."

"_Kitty Jones…" He looked at her helplessly. "Kitty, I love you."_

_She stared at him, her eyes shining. The flower in her hair was glowing, and her face was glowing, and her face was getting nearer and nearer…_

_And she was close, her eyes half-closed, and he was leaning toward her…_

They kissed, holding each other tightly. The ring on Kitty's finger glittered in the firelight. Nathaniel could smell the sweet scent of Kitty's hair, and he was hugging her tightly. They rocked back and forth, moving slowly across the living room in a slow dance.

_And they kissed. _

"Merry Christmas, Kitty," he whispered in her ear.

She wrapped her hands in his hair and whispered back, "Merry Christmas."

Outside the snow was falling, swirling in beautiful white puffs. A cold wind blew, casting great gusts of freeze. But inside all was warm, and the fire was popping and Kitty and Nathaniel danced slowly, wrapped in their blanket of love.

It was a merry Christmas indeed.


End file.
